Red
by Door Is Ajar
Summary: The color haunted him, loved him, never wanted to leave him. But it always seemed to be marred, spread, placed on her, ruining her. Nothing but her. And that was the one thing in his world he never wanted to see it on.
1. Chapter 1

_Red_

_Chapter 1: Her Blood_

It was the color of blood, of death, of destruction, of everything that could be labeled as evil. He began to hate the color, but, however, it seemed to love him more than he thought something could. During his time in the Hawkeye household, he was lucky to still be young enough to not see so much of the crimson liquid.

He was twelve, she was nearly eleven.

The front door lightly swung open, creaking as it went. The mansion, throughout his time he spent learning there, had begun to fall apart slowly, not quite reaching the perk of inhabitable. The young boy with messy black hair let himself in and closed the door behind him with the same annoying sound effect. He would have called out for his teacher's daughter like usual (She always knew whether or not her father could be bothered at that time. Besides, he couldn't shake the fact he would purely be rude by not sporting a quick greetings to her.) if he didn't spot the few specks of blood on the floor.

His first glimpse of the death-related material greeted his path up the stairs, and he followed its trail to what he recalled to be his teacher's daughter's room. He gently pushed the door open from its already barely-an-inch-open-crack. The noise like the front door was not made, and he was able to successfully enter without being noticed.

She was laying belly-down onto her boring wooden bed with white sheets, her face into one of her also white pillows. He was about to place his hand on her back in a friendly gesture when he noticed that all she wore was a pair of black pants, her entire body above that and below her neck covered in crimson-tinted sterile bandages.

"R-Riza, what's wrong?" the boy asked with the surprise obvious in his voice.

The blond-haired girl turned her head to the side, grimacing slightly at even that movement. "I-It's nothing, Roy. Just go back to Father's room for your lesson." As if to prove her point, she attempted to sit up with as much of a straight-face as she could muster.

"You can't be serious. D-Don't you see all the blood!" It was a little shocking, but he looked down at the floor, her eyes following, to see a large puddle about the size of his foot of pure blood. On the white sheets was another stain, the substance sinking into the cloth and blocking the ability to tell just how much had leaked out of her body.

"I said I was fine..." she mumbled, not too confident in herself.

He was as confused as he had ever been, not only at the fact that she was grimacing to the point of one eye being held shut but that she also had a smile to derail him from worrying about her.

To shake himself out of his thoughts, Roy sat down beside her on her bed, avoiding the blood, and put a hand on her shoulder. Very softly and very serious, he whispered, "I would take getting beaten by you at hide-and-seek over this."

A small smirk laced itself onto his face at his joke, but he knew in all honesty it was only to hopefully persuade her to tell him why she was bleeding so heavily. "Is there a reason you can't tell me what's wrong?"

The smile on his face fell back to its original position with the concern he, also originally, had.

She then looked up at him, her own smile having faded, as well. "My father... He... I'm not allowed to tell you. You weren't even supposed t-to know now." Her voice attempted to stay calm, but there was no use, especially when it gave way to stuttering.

"You know I wouldn't tell. I just want to help you, however I can," he replied. At this, her eyes looked away to the ground, her head following in suit.

"I think you should go to your lesson. Father will get angry if he realizes you've been up her with me." It was quite, almost as if she truly didn't want him to leave. He caught up on that, but didn't take it and go further. Instead, he just mumbled an 'alright' before standing back up.

As he reached the door, preparing to leave by closing the few inches that were left, he spoke, "One of these days you'll tell me what happened. And then I'm still going to help you with it."

That caused her to look away from the wooden floor to spot Roy's head sticking in, his signature goofy smirk plastered onto his boyish face in his only remaining attempt to cheer her up. It must have worked if he got her to smile back, however small it was.

The door shut with a soft click behind him, a slight feeling of guilt rising in his stomach created by the want and need to help her more than just by a few words. What he didn't believe would become true were his words, though.

Red was a color that would show up because of his words. He hated the color deeply, but it seemed to love him more than he believed something could, even if it was real. Her blood was the first indication of his hatred of the color, as he followed its path down the stairs and then down a hallway into his teacher's room for his lesson.

_To be continued..._

* * *

Author's Note: So, did anyone like that? I didn't think I could expand much more, what with him not being able to know exactly what happened. Hope you enjoyed~! :D


	2. Chapter 2

_Red_

_Chapter 2: Ink_

"Can I trust you? With my father's research?" She already knew the answer, but hesitancy still got the best of her as she asked and refused to look him in the eyes.

The two were now inside the Hawkeye estate, proceeding the funeral. She was now seventeen, him eighteen.

Without waiting for a reply, she turned around, her back to him, and slipped off her dress shirt. Mustang would have turned away, afraid of intruding even if she did let the material fall to the floor on her own free will, if it wasn't for the bright ink on her back.

A tattoo. A bright red, alchemic tattoo that covered her entire back.

"Wha... What is that?" Mustang spoke, barely over a whisper.

"It's my father's research notes. He... he figured they would be safer on my body than on paper or something..." She sounded almost like a little girl, afraid of saying anything wrong and shying away from the horrible truth.

"Is this... what happened a few years ago? The reason your back was bleeding and why you were covered in bandages?" He felt guilt steadily rise, fighting the urge to do nothing more than consume her in an embrace, to remove the pain. But that was years ago. And even back then, a hug would have irritated the freshly injured skin, sending a burning sensation down her spine. _How ironic._

"Yes, Mr. Mustang..." she spoke in nothing more than a whisper, her voice leaving her seemingly, as she referred to him more properly.

As kids they weren't allowed to use such informal language as their first names alone. Now that the reason for being unable to do so was out of the way, calling each other by their first name seemed vile on their tongues. At least, for her it was. He, on the other hand, felt vile when he was called with a "mister" in front of his last name.

"What were you planning on doing now?"

"These are the only remnants of his study on Flame Alchemy. Since you were his student, I figured you would want them as well to decode them or... whatever you... needed them for..." It was showing too obviously that she was unsure of how he would proceed to process the information or even how easily it would be to figure them through.

She only hoped the larger array would make it easier, meaning that the codes would be more simple to understand.

"Did it hurt?" Even he was surprised by the question.

"E-Excuse me?"

"Did it hurt? To... To have it tattooed onto your back?" he asked more clearly.

He noticed her tense up, her upper body completely visible and making it much easier to see. With a sigh, she let out a small "Yes..."

His hands slowly balled into fists, clenched tightly at the new information. _It's not new, stupid. It always hurts when there's blood. _"Was it under your consent? Did... Did he let you choose not to have it?" he asked slowly, knowing this had to be a sensitive topic, especially right after her father died.

"He didn't... I was told I didn't have a choice in the matter and that it should be kept secret. That's also why I didn't allow you to help me... in case you saw the tattoo..." She kept ending her sentences like some one was watching her, figuring that if she said something wrong, she would be killed.

"And what would that matter!" Mustang shouted. His hands were removed from his sides, now outstretched somewhat in front of him. "If your father, the one person you should be able to turn to, made you bleed like that without a second thought to how you felt, you should have told me! I... I could have helped you! We were friends, weren't we?" he seemed to even be asked himself the same question as he spoke it and wondered just how much trust she really had in him.

She, although he bore holes into her head in an ridiculous attempt to make her turn around, never moved her eyes away from the wooden ground.

"If I didn't have a choice to get the tattoo in the first place, why would I be able to run around showing it off without his consent, either?" Her question, directed to him as not one she wanted an answer to, didn't match his volume by far, even going far enough to almost make him lean closer to hear.

Mustang's guilt level rose higher, though, regretting what he just said. _"She had no where to run to. She had me, but her father wouldn't allow that._

"Roy..." she started as if testing the ability to talk at an audible level._  
_

"What?" That was all he said- something so widely know and so elementary simple- but he couldn't hide his sudden surprise in hearing his first name in that one word alone.

Still not turning her head to face him, she spoke, "Were you going to look at the notes at all? I hope you realize it's the middle of autumn and cold in here." Her voice let on she was joking with him, although she had to be honest about being cold with nothing on above her waist.

He didn't reply immediately, but she heard the shuffle of fabric behind her. Then she felt something being placed on her shoulders, which came out to be Mustang's overcoat that previously laid on top of his military uniform.

"I told you when we were littler... that I would find out what had happened and that I would help you with it," he spoke, watching her pull the heavy coat tighter around herself for modesty.

"If you don't think I'm ready to see it, then decoding it wouldn't help, not after you had to unwillingly get it marred on your back." he spoke with a gentle tone.

This caused her to close her eyes and sigh, hating how something of her father's now rested completely on her once again, this time metaphorically and not physically. "Your dream... That was what made me decide to let you see the notes. My only concern would be this... you not wanting to see them..."

Her voice carried no hints of agitation with the fact he pushed that out of her. Instead, however, he didn't notice the uncertainty that waved near the end with the mention of his own desires.

"Riza..." It felt strange on his tongue but not something he didn't like. After the incident about her back, she became slightly more distant, but not to the point of total isolation. They didn't say one another's names often; and when they could, her father was around with the rule of using formalities in front of their last names.

However, he was by far not completely unused to it. She could justify, as he always refused to use that rule when her father was hidden in his studies. But when she now heard her name, she almost didn't realize it was hers.

"I want to share my dream with you... If that's alright. I want to use this alchemy for good, for the country like I said."


	3. Chapter 3

_Red_

_Chapter 3: War_

Mustang was ordered to bring ammo up to the snipers in tower two. A few of the higher ups noticed there were no more shots being fired, which did result in some panic that Ishvalan men were sneaking past with no one firing their way.

The only reason he had to believe he was chosen came from Hughes. "If ya' see someone while you're up there, they know you can still get them with your alchemy."

He climbed what appeared to be never ending stairs, carrying a box about the size shoes would come in, only to be met with a wooden door. He should have assumed it wasn't locked, but he messed with the doorknob anyway, surprised as it gently swayed open.

"Is anyone-" The breath caught in his throat as a rifle was pointed at his face, shaking from the weak grasp help onto it. And then he was certain he would have puked at the smell of a rotting corpse. He almost did at noticing the person holding the gun to his face and the blood splattered across her body, the terror-stricken face shown through shrunken pupils.

"H-Hawkeye..." It came out in a whisper. His voice wouldn't allow him to produce anything more, especially while looking at the fright on her own face.

The two held their breath before she lowered the gun, ungracefully falling back onto the bricks the tower was made of from her one-knee-down position and trying to inhale enough oxygen.

"What happened?" Mustang asked. To his right was a dead body with blood still leaking out across the floor. It looked male and quite familiar... If he did remember correctly, this man held quite a high rank even before entering the war.

"He was shot." He looked back over at her, noticing the blood steadily pooling around herself, as well. It shocked him that his mind would register something like that while he was already not expecting such a simple answer.

"Did you get shot, as well?" He could only hope and pray it was his blood alone that was under her body, with it already lay splattered across the walls and the floor in his immediate area.

"Yes, sir," she replied. Mustang tried to find any kind of emotion in her words, but she kept her eyes glued shut, not even allowing him to see the fear they held earlier.

Instead, his breath hitched in his throat, fully noticing the extent of the injuries in just this sniper post alone with a dead body and an injured one. Mustang placed the box onto the floor ungracefully and, as steadily as he could, walked over to the girl before dropping to his knees.

"Where's everywhere you got shot?" he asked, a little more caring than how he previously had been talking.

Hawkeye opened her eyes to hesitantly meet his. He shouldn't be concerned about her injuries, by her guess he should only be here to drop off that box near the door.

"I'm fine, sir. I need to get back to my post if you are done." Her eyes never met his once, and he hated it so deeply. She should be able to trust him, yet she can't tell him a few simple words.

He waited a few seconds, desperate for her to speak more, before responding with, "Alright. See you tonight like usual." He stood up, not even bothering to brush the dirt off his pants before exiting the tower and closing the unlocked door.

On his exit from the entire tower, he bumped into Hughes, who seemed to be off duty at the current moment. (Not really _bumped into_, more like tracked down to be shown pictures of his wife or to be told stories of the same woman.)

"So, Roy, I got a letter in the mail today from my Gracia~! She says she baked a pie that she wants me to try when I get back home!" The man stopped walking and began shuffling through his pockets for the letter to show as proof but lost interest as Roy stepped right past him, not taking much more notice than a distant, "That's great, Maes."

"What's on your mind?" Hughes asked seriously, a great contrast of what he had just shown, as he caught up to Roy.

"I need your help. If you see Hawkeye, just tell me, okay? We're both off duty, so just help me keep an eye out for when she comes out of tower two," Mustang replied as he searched around the area for a simple box or crate to sit on and keep watch.

"I think she's cute, too, but what's the whole reason for this?" The man had a small smirk on his face in the thought he would see Mustang blush or anything like such, but he ignored the first part of Hughes' statement. He instead found two crates beside a building that would block most of Hawkeye's view on them.

As the pair sat down, Mustang let out a sigh and answered. "For some reason I was told to deliver ammo to her tower."

"Alright, but why are you concerned about that?"

"She was sitting in there was a dead body, whoever else was in there with her. Plus she was shot, as well. She refused to come down with me for medical attention, so I want your persuasion skills to help me," Roy finished with a smirk of his own when referring to Hughes' ability to force anyone to do anything. (Mostly related to his girlfriend, anyway.)

He was replied to with nothing more than a smile before the two sat in silence. An hour passed with nothing, and the sun was just barely situated at a position to fully lighten the land. A half an hour passed where Hughes fell asleep, nearly falling face-first into the ground if Mustang hadn't slapped him awake.

Another ten minutes went by, and the sun was just starting to set. They guessed that was her cue to be off duty, as they watched her walk towards them; apparently by luck they sat in the direction she was supposed to head after her shift in the tower. Mustang stood up, looking down at Hughes before the other man stood himself.

They began heading towards her, both noticing that she kept her hood over her face to deny any one from seeing her and the few specks of blood that would fall to the ground every couple steps, which was also unhappily accompanied by patches of blood on her right shoulder and, somehow, the left side of her abdomen.

"Hey, Hawkeye, long time no see!" Hughes called as he stepped in line with her and placed an arm around her shoulder, careful of her injury. "How ya' doing?"

Uncomfortable with the lack of personal space from Mustang's perspective, she slightly tensed up and resulted in Mustang shooting Hughes a glare. The other man got the message, but didn't seem too keen on the idea and instead slightly jerked his head in their direction for him to join the two.

"I'm fine, sir..." she trailed off, directing her line of vision at the floor away from his direction.

"Come on, don't be like that!" Hughes laughed. He then leaned over, whispering in her ear, "Just to let you know, Roy over here has been sitting out here for over an hour waiting for you. If you want to avoid any arguments, go get some medical attention."

As Hughes removed his head away from her ear, the walking pair finally caught up with Roy, who hadn't moved an inch from his standing point. "So, Roy, she says she'll go and get treated if you go with her." The man tried not to let on that it was a lie, but he couldn't fool Roy that easily.

He sighed before replying. "Don't joke around like that Maes." By now he was standing to Hawkeye's right, the opposite side of Hughes. "Will you come with me to get aid anyway, though?"

"I shouldn't, sir..." She still refused to meet either of their eyes and was instead interested by the ground alone. However, that changed as Roy walked in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. He forgot about the wound to her right shoulder, but it wasn't a quick thought: she didn't flinch, so there was nothing to tell him he was doing something wrong.

She was numb, he figured. The war made everyone- well, mostly everyone- numb at some point. And now was her time for that. That would also explain why now, as she finally by his force looked into his eyes, they held no emotion what-so-ever. Pain should have been clear at that moment, but there was nothing. Nothing, not even something happy, if that was possible here.

Roy then looked up at Hughes, trying to get his word across without alerting Hawkeye. However, she was pretty sure even if he said it aloud she wouldn't process too deeply into it right now.

The man got what he was saying and lied, "I got to patrol a little area over there. I'll see you two in a while." With that he walked away accompanied by a small wave.

"Now you're coming with me to the medical tent," Roy stated, taking her arm and starting to walk.

"But, sir-"

"Don't say anything, you need to get those-"

"Mister Mustang, I-"

"I told you, you should-"

"Roy."

That caught his attention, even if it wasn't a shout. First names weren't used often, and she, of all people, used his. He turned around to face her, resorting to placing his hands on her shoulders again to have her look at him.

"They might see my tattoo..." Her eyes were downcast again. Something like that... she wasn't sure what kind of response would greet her.

She didn't see- her eyes were too occupied by the very interesting floor to see- his eyes widen in realization. She didn't even feel his arms remove themselves or his hand take her wrist until she was pulled in a slightly different direction.

"Just stay quiet, alright?" A small smirk grew on his face, knowing he had cut her off from asking or even just saying anything.

He guided her into a tent, which she had to guess was his by how willing he was to plop her down on one of the two sleeping bags. He then grabbed for a box behind her head, which he promptly opened to reveal several medical supplies.

"Hughes is my roommate, so don't worry about anything. And don't feel uncomfortable, either, just take off any clothes that would get in the way of treating you," Roy spoke. He didn't allow her to utter a single thing in unwillingness to accept his help.

His eyes rummaged through the box, pulling out a tube of something and setting it beside himself before continuing his search. "It's not like I don't know you," he spoke in reference to her not moving at all.

With that, though, she hesitantly pulled off the heavy overcoat most soldiers wore, including Roy and Hughes. She then unbuttoned her blue military coat, followed by a regular shirt. That left her only in a bra, while Roy closed the box shut after finding the gauze tap.

He leaned over from his spot beside her to closer inspect the side shot. "I'll be right back, I need to get this washcloth wet," he somewhat quietly spoke as he pulled the cloth out from his pile of supplies.

He stood up and left, returning a minute or two later with a canteen. He poured a generous amount onto the towel and dabbed it onto her side. She again didn't flinch, which allowed him to work a little more faster than regularly. After the dried blood was removed from her side, he wet a second towel and cleaned her shoulder.

The rest of the process finished like he would have learned in school. He used the peroxide on a third towel to clean both wounds before wrapping them, one going around her abdomen and the other going over and under her upper arm.

"Done. Just change it if it gets too bloody," he spoke, throwing all the us-used products back into the box and grabbing a hold of the used products. "I'll be right back, you can get changed, you know."

He stood up, bent over slightly from the low ceiling, and walked out. He returned with empty hands, met now by a fully clothed Hawkeye who gripped the brown overcoat tightly around herself.

Roy sat down beside her then, pulling an arm around her body to slightly pull her closer. "If it's alright, I want you to relax for a little while. You're... You're numb right now. If you get hurt, your body won't feel a thing. That's not safe, okay?"

His words were too kind, and all she could give in return was a slight nod. Roy hated the idea himself, somewhat. When he exited to discard the used towels and such, the sun was nearly set, which would also mean Hughes would return soon to sleep.

At that, as if someone was torturing him, her head softly fell onto his shoulder, her eyes closed in sleep. He couldn't resist a smile, and his head eventually fell onto of hers in slumber.

That was how Hughes found them, an evil smirk plastered on his lips and the instant desire for a camera to remember this moment.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

_Author's Note: I think I made it too long... :I Oh well, someone might like it. XD  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Red_

_Chapter 4: Family_

His blood would be the death of him. If he thought further into it, it would be the easiest thing to comprehend. If you bleed, which means losing your blood, you would eventually die. However, he didn't mean that particularly. He meant it metaphorically.

After Lust was killed- multiple times, technically- he was positive he imagined what he saw with the Lieutenant. Her, completely broken on the floor. She thought he had died, believed Lust's words and decided she didn't want to live. That is, right after she called the Homunculus a female dog and shot at her until she was completely out of bullets and silently crying her eyes out.

At that point, his blood could of been the death of him, if he didn't think about sealing the wound shut with his flame alchemy. But that wasn't his thought. If he had died because of the blood- which to him wouldn't really had been his death- he wasn't sure if Alphonse could have gotten Hawkeye out. If he did, would she of remained that broken, crying silently in denial. No, not denial. She wasn't stupid, she would know he was dead. But she would be too sick of the thought that it would do nothing but remain in her head. Her pour head that Al might of had to save by himself.

But the thought that she, who he knew had to be stronger than himself and anyone else in their team, would give up on living if he was dead... that would have been the real death of him.

He even asked Al about it, just to be sure his mind wasn't playing cruel tricks on him.

_"Did that really happen?" He couldn't look at the boy._

_"D-Did what really happen, Colonel?" the "Tin-Man" asked, a little surprised after sitting in silence for a few minutes._

_"Did the lieutenant really... break down like that?" His eyes were now closed, trying to block out images. Closing his eyes just "fed oil to the flames," as he would again use later unannounced to him currently.* He reopened them to stare at the white sheets of his hospital bed instead._

_The young boy took a second to think, even more surprised now. "Don't be mad at her, Colonel. She thought you were dead. And..." He paused, getting his thoughts straight. "And you two are like brother and sister. If Brother wasn't such a hot-head and he didn't rub off on me, we would do the same thing for each other that she did for you."_

_At this the black-haired man looked up at Al. Such a simple way to put it, and yet it sounded so right. Too true, especially considering they were so similar like the boys with the two of them growing up together and him learning alchemy from her father._

_"I don't think you realize how close you two remind me of me and her..." Mustang mumbled, hoping the boy did hear that at how low it was._

The boy left a few minutes later, stating that he remembered he had to find Ed. Roy decided all he could do at the moment was sleep. His lieutenant was being kept in another room temporarily he heard, as she pretty much went quiet at anything the doctors asked or did for her.

Al, like he stated, was searching for Ed, who currently sat on a chair in the waiting room. (It took him an hour to find him, though. Really, who would think Ed, of all people, would do nothing but sit in the waiting room of a hospital?) "Brother!" he called, coming to stand next to the other boy.

"What is it, Al?" Ed asked, looking behind the chair to see his younger brother come to a halt beside him.

"Have you been sitting here the whole time?"

"No, I've been walking around. Not much to see here, though," he replied, leaning deep into the chair and propping his head up on his fist.

"Oh, well, in that case have you seen Miss Hawkeye?" Al asked.

"Um... Oh, yeah, I saw her go into the Colonel's room about forty, forty-five minutes ago while I was walking around. Why do you ask?" This caught the boy's attention. Why would he be concerned about her?

"Oh, um... Brother?" Al asked, fiddling with his metal hands.

"Hm?" his brother replied, leaning down in his chair.

"How do you think we're like Miss Hawkeye and the Colonel?"

The question didn't seem too odd, it wasn't like he was asking it randomly as opposed to now when the Colonel was bedridden.

"I don't really know. Do you think we are, though?" The boy looked back up at Al, following him as he came to stand in front of him.

Al waited a second and then sat down beside Ed. "Earlier when we were underground, I was paired with Miss Hawkeye. When Lust appeared and said that the Colonel was dead... she just broke down, Brother. I figured if you weren't such a hothead and if you hadn't rubbed off on me, we would be in the same boat as them."

Ed almost prepared himself to attack Al at the 'hothead' comment but dropped it when he realized his thought couldn't be more true. "And then I thought... that because they're so close like that... maybe they knew each other for a long time."

"They did go to Ishval together. I wouldn't be surprised if they helped each other out there." That place was one that Ed never wanted to visit, and the two of them had to kill people there. He was sure they needed help sometimes, even if was just to talk.

"No, I mean even further back. Why else would she care so little for her life if he was dead?"

The words rung in Ed's head. If the Colonel died... then the Lieutenant would literally die, too. It seemed sick, almost enough to puke. Sure, he loved Al and vice-versa, but one couldn't kill himself if the other was to die. They had friends and family like Winry. But for those two, it seemed like they were family, as well. But what about friends? Did they have so little close friends that the pair was the only real family-like relationship they had?

"Yeah, maybe, Al..." he mumbled it out, not having enough energy after that thought to fully reply.

The two sat in silence for a good while after that, the sun having set already. Ed looked up at the wall, finding a clock that read 9:36. That meant he had been sitting there, doing nothing, with Al for an hour and thirty minutes about.

"Have you seen the Lieutenant come out, Brother?" Al asked, finding the clock after Ed.

"Nope. But she is his Lieutenant. Maybe she's guarding his room or something." At that, an plot formed in his head, a wicked expression growing on his face. "Come on, Al," he whispered.

The two got up and walked down the hallway to the Colonel's room, gently opening the door just a crack. They noticed Havoc in the farthest bed, the Colonel's beside his and only separated by a small table. Beside the Colonel's bed, though was a chair with Hawkeye in it, asleep with her arm supported by the chair's arm and her head supported by her hand in a fist.

Ed shut the door, still quietly so as to not disturb the three, before turning down the same hallway they came from. "He sure is lucky if she's sleeping in one of those uncomfortable chairs."

* * *

_Author's Note: Was that a little weird for anybody? I hope I didn't make Ed or Al out of character... XD_


	5. Chapter 5

_Red_

_Chapter 5: Hair_

After the defeat of Father and the Homunculus, peace primarily reigned over Central and the majority of Amestris, especially with a corrupt military no longer in power. Everyone quickly went back to their jobs with the military bearing the brunt of the work for all the destruction. The first day back at work for Roy's team was complete chaos, and many others were waiting on promotions from assisting in the Promised Day.

Hawkeye was the first one in, as usual. The rest of the men flowed through, each talking about something that carried on from outside the office, which quieted down as they stepped inside and stared at the Lieutenant. They would then get to work at their own desks while trying to ignore what they saw without asking questions.

The last one to arrive was- without his formally announced promotion- the Colonel, carrying an armful of paperwork. He slammed it onto his main desk and began working on it instantly. With the four lower ranking men busy trying to figure out the two, the only complete work getting done came from the Colonel and the Lieutenant.

It wasn't until Hawkeye got up and brought Mustang a paper that needed his signature did he notice the change, as well. He quickly scribbled it down, and as she was heading back to her seat he asked the question that had been bugging them all.

"Why'd you cut your hair?"

He was sure she was expecting it by the lack of surprise and quick answer. "It just had too much blood on it."

He felt a little stupid for not realizing that. She had been laying in a pool of her own blood, where her hair had been also situated in the red goo. The other men knew the story, and they even got the more embarrassing bits (like Mustang freaking out as if the world was ending) from one person telling another, as well.

"You know, Cheif, we could all say the opposite for you. A shave would be pretty nice before you get a mustache or something growing," Havoc spoke up.

"Really now? Well how about this. I could grow a mustache until the Lieutenant grows her hair back out. Or, do you prefer your hair shorter, Lieutenant?" he asked, his line of direction going form Havoc to Hawkeye.

"I do prefer it longer, actually," she spoke while writing a signature of her own on a document.

"I don't really see myself getting facial hair for any reason besides to look goofy. So how about that? No one has anything to loose except me."

The men all looked at one another, as if this had something to do with them. "I wanna see that," Breda threw in.

"I really don't see why that is necessary. I cut my hair without anyone else's discretion, so you shouldn't have to do something you don't see fit, sir," Hawkeye pointed out.

"Oh well, I guess we're both going to look a little weird for a while then, aren't we?" Mustang asked.

Hawkeye looked up from her paperwork to see him staring at her for an answer. With a sigh, she replied, "I guess so, sir, if you want to do something like that."

_End_

* * *

_Author's Note: Well, this is the last chapter and for good reason. Obviously you can see that this chapter is extremely short, and I apologize. However, I am writing different stories currently and such while trying to figure out how to wrap this one up. Thanks for reading. :)_


End file.
